


Cannoli: A Recipe for Love

by Mistu_Shipper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Baking, Cooking, Cute, Fluff, Hetalia, LGBT, M/M, Prumano - Freeform, Prumano valentines exchange 2020, for 4k, i cant stop writing without making it super long honestly, i have a bad habit of doing that tbh, i hope you enjoy though!!, im so sorry i went overboard, its legit just them cooking, yes hetalia is still active in 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistu_Shipper/pseuds/Mistu_Shipper
Summary: Prussia and Romano spend their time cooking together in the kitchen. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Prussia/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Cannoli: A Recipe for Love

**Author's Note:**

> this was made for @punkmaplebear on tumblr! if you’re reading this, i really hope you enjoy this! happy valentine’s day!!

“You’re late,” is what Lovino Vargas said to him when he entered the sweet-smelling house. No greeting or welcome smile to meet him at the door. Only stiff upper lip that formed into a pout, with his furrowed brown eyebrows contributing to his usual annoyed attitude as well. He tapped his foot rapidly against the frame of the wooden door while his arms were crossed tightly across his body, covering his dust-covered apron. His shoulders hunched back, while his curl seemed to droop with stress. And his face, oh his face. The brunette's face was a flaming tomato red that was drenched by the beads of sweat caused by the nearby scorching presence of the sun. His boyfriend continuously glared angrily up at him, letting out a small huff. 

“I thought Germans were supposed to be on time.”

“I have a good reason to be late, I was preparing a surprise for you,” Gilbert reassured. He sat down his Prussian blue bags, and began to dig through it. “I promise you’ll love it.” 

The brunette held up his hand to stop his digging. He gestured towards the back left, where the kitchen was. “That’s great, but we have shit to do.” From the angle he was in, he could spot the endless amount of trays, spoons, and other kitchen utensils upturned. Dough laid everywhere on the counter, while some bowls had ingredients unmixed by their baker. Flour was even on the wall in some spots. The state of the kitchen was like a battlefield, chaotic in every single way. How Lovino managed to cook in that mess was an enigma to Gilbert. To him, It was an endless array of unorganized and uncoordinated tasks that needed to be completed. He turned back his gaze onto Lovino, who was staring up at the clock. 

“We have about two hours left until Carnival starts. We need to finish making these desserts, and stat.” He turned his body away from him, looking off into the kitchen with a concentrated expression. “I already started cooking without you.” the brunette told him. “So wash your hands, and meet me in the kitchen.” He walked away, off to his own type of battlefield.

Gilbert let out a sigh. He’ll have to make it up to him for his lateness through his mediocre cooking skills. 

Well, they don’t call Germans hard working for nothing. 

After spending a few minutes setting down his bags, and washing his hands (like any proper man should), he joined his brunette boyfriend in the kitchen. He was currently kneading the dough, pressing hard and firmly against the material. Gilbert watched, admiring the technique Lovino posed when cooking. Whatever he was doing, no matter how odd the task, it was graceful in a way that only the Italian could possess. From creating the creamy filling to rapidly frying the shell’s of the cannoli, each task was done quickly and efficiently, to keep up with the racing time. He ignored the splatters when he mixed the ingredients together, or the rising heat near the fryer despite his obvious lack of comfort. When in the kitchen, Lovino Vargas was a mastermind. Full concentration and control, there was no moment he left to doubt the skill of the cook.

Said cook gave Gilbert a side eye as he rolled another batch of dough into several long, separate strips. The German didn’t say anything, just watched him with a small, fond grin on his face. He admired his soft cheekbones that slowly developed a flush, his small, petite nose, and his dark sage eyes that seemed to glow against the luminescence of the sun. The most notable thing about his boyfriend though (in terms of looks, at least) was his pink and plumped up lips. Always puckered up into a pout, Gilbert couldn’t help but have the temptation to kiss them. And again. And again. Sometimes, it was to softly greet him chaste, sweet, pecks. Others, more violent and rushed, in the heat of the moment. Whatever suited their moods, they would kiss like that. If only Lovino would let him, he would give him kisses all over right now. It was an official rule that there would be no kisses when they cooked though.

Not when there was so much to do.

At last, Lovino looked up from his current task at hand. His ears were tinged with red while his face could be compared to the tomatoes he grew in the garden. He stared directly into Gilbert’s albinstic eyes, glaring. “If you have enough time to make googly-eyes at me, then you have enough time to work,” he snapped with no real heat. He goes back to finish his role. After a few moments of rolling the dough, he paused to point at a bunch of ingredients nearby him. “By getting to work, I mean making the damn dough. You’re good at getting things done.”

Coming from him, that was a big compliment. With a smirk adorned on his pale face, he added the flour and salt into a large glass bowl. The butter at the side was cut into pieces by a knife, and placed into the bowl to be mixed by a spoon handed by Lovino. “So, you going to tell me what we’re cooking this year? Tiramisu? Cassata? Or is it arancini again? I really love arancini.” His stomach growled, almost as his hunger was summoned by the mere mention of those words.

“Nope, nope and nope. It’s none of those. We can buy those later,” Lovino told him, a small huff of laughter coming from him. He measured the sugar, cocoa, and coffee using tablespoons and teaspoons before dumping it hastily into the bowl. The cinnamon is added more delicately, and with more calculation. “This year, it’s cannoli.”

“Can I have some when they’re done?” Gilbert can’t help but asked the man.

Lovino paused his measuring for a moment, and put a finger to his lips, as if considering the possibility. Quickly, he shaked his head. “Nope. Customers first.”

“Aww, am I not your best customer?” He said playfully with a laugh. He attempted to mess with Lovino’s hair. 

His boyfriend managed to swiftly swat his large hand away before it reached his hair. “You’re also the cook. So, that same logic applies to you, asshole.” His face softened considerably, almost to a smile. “Trust me, you’ll want to have an empty stomach when you get there. The food there is great.”

“It’s always.” 

The two of them shared a private smile between each other before they got back to their jobs. Lovino decorated the interior of the shells with the freshly-made filling, while the German continued mixing ingredients together. He included more materials into the batter, such as the eggs, Marsala, and vinegar. Using the measuring tools, he was able to accurately measure them, step by step. Just like always. He used a large spoon to mix everything together, effectively turning the batter into the dough that was needed to make shells. Copying Lovino’s moves from earlier, he kneaded the dough firmly with his calloused fists. After a few minutes of squishing and molding, the dough was done, and just needed to rest. Looking around, he grabbed a blue cloth to cover the large glass bowl, and wiped the sweat forming on his brow. He glanced at the clock, and a sigh of relief came out. They had time. No need to worry about the race against the clock.

“So, what do you want me to do next?”

Lovino didn’t bother looking up from his pastry-filling. Instead, he flicked his wrist behind him. “You go make the filling in the back. I’ll show you how to make the shape of the cannoli later.”

Gilbert nodded. He headed towards the direction the Italian gestured, where everything was supplied for the best part of the cannoli; the filling. Using the fine-mesh sieve, the well-drained ricotta went through the sorrel bowl. And the wooden spoon certainly helped push through the tiny holes of the equipment. Once the ricotta was properly shifted in, he gently sprinkled the sugar across the top, and nixed the ingredients together. Underneath the counter were the drawers. He opened one of them up, which contained another measuring spoon. He measured the vanilla extract, and poured it into the filling. Another round of mixing. From behind, he could hear the sound of frying shells from Lovino. The smell of the canola was becoming more and more tempting each second. Almost tantalizing, even. The urge for food became louder and louder, calling and begging for the taste of the sweet dessert. He wanted—no needed the food. He hasn’t eaten anything since the currywurst for mid-morning brunch.

Calm down, he realized. He would have it. 

He took a deep breath, and focused back on the singular bowl in front of him. Only food that has not been used was the chocolate chips. He would need to add those. Quickly, he sprinkled the chips into the mixture, and smushed the ingredients together. completing all the steps needed for the perfect filling. Although he wasn’t sure how all this would taste, from the constant sizzling of Lovino’s frying, he knew he would not be let down by his cooking. His boyfriend was known for his legendary cooking, especially Sillician. And everyone knows Sicilian the backbone of Italian culture, after all. That has only been a fact to the personification since the beginning of the crusades, and has been confirmed when they had officially met during the Napoleon era. Lovino’s cooking style might have changed and evolved over the centuries, but his skill and expertise remains the same. And he doesn’t expect that to change anytime soon. If the whole of Germany cease to exist, at least Lovino’s excellent cooking would always be top-notch. 

Speaking of the man, he was waving his arm directly at his face. “Gilbert?” His boyfriend called loudly, diverting his attention from the creamy filling. The albino looked up from his station to meet his gaze. Although the brunette had a frown on his face and his eyebrows were furrowed, he looked more concerned than annoyed, perhaps confused even. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I called your names, like. Five times. Are you doing good or do you need a break? I know working in the kitchen can be really exhausting at times.” He raised an eyebrow at him.

Gilbert straightened himself up, and gave him a smirk. “Don’t worry about me! I’m fine!” He reassured him. The Italian merely stared at him disbelievingly, not budging an inch off the topic. In all honesty, he looked about ready to argue, with his mouth wide. Gilbert held up a hand in his face, to stop him from insisting to go rest. Instead, he started his catchphrase, “For I am the one and only.” His boyfriend only groaned, and facepalmed himself. He knew exactly what was coming up. The former personification continued, “The greatest and most awesomest—“

His stomach growled heavily.

Lovino let out a giggle before he could stop himself. The giggles soon turned to chuckles which turned to laughter. He brought his dust-covered hand to his mouth, muffling out the noise he made. His other hand gripped the table tightly, to support him amidst all his enjoyment. Gilbert stood there, agape. He watched the amused Italian with wide eyes as he snickered to himself. If his boyfriend’s laughter wasn’t at his expense, he would’ve found this side of him cute and lovable, and admired him as such. Instead, the German man twisted his head to side, averting the gaze of Lovino. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink, while he scratched his cheek sheepishly. Damn his stomach for ruining his catchphrase, damn it. 

After a minute or so of snickering, Lovino closed to a stop. He placed his hand on his chest, took a deep breath, and sighed through his nose. On his face laid a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “I think you mean the greatest and hungeriest,” He joked, a hint of amusement still in his tone. The brunette shifted his position against the table as he asked, “are you really that hungry? I thought you texted me about eating brunch earlier?”

Gilbert offered another sheepish look at him while he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah.. I guess I didn’t expect myself to be that hungry…” His eyes trailed off into where the cookie cutters and dough were placed on the messy table. Ready to be fried and made into the cannoli-shape, and to be filled with the creamy goodness they had made. They were to be eaten and consumed by the general public, not for nations such as themselves. Besides, it was against Lovino’s own personal rules for cooking. But.. the food wasn’t even done, and it already seemed absolutely scrumptious to the ravenous man. He really couldn’t resist it anymore. 

So he dropped the foretold question.

“Can I please eat it?” The German stared hopefully into the green eyes of his, fingers crossed for the off chance that he’d say yes. 

Lovino bit his bottom lips. He looked off to his side, to avoid Gilbert’s pleading red eyes staring into him. He clicked his tongue, while he mulled over the importance of the issue. His eyes darted to the dough, and back to Gilbert. And then back to the dough, and then Gilbert. Dough or Gilbert. Dough or Gilbert. 

Finally, after what seemed to be an hour’s worth of time, he began to speak. “Fine,” he huffed out. “You can be the taste tester. For only one cannoli.” Gilbert smiled with mirth. He actually convinced him to let him eat his food— first! “Only one.” He repeated, demonstrated by holding his pointer finger up to Gilbert. His eyes narrowed considerably, and he gave him a warning scowl. “You can not tell anyone about this. It’ll ruin my reputation as a strict cook.” Gilbert only nodded enthusiastically, as he stared at the array of unfinished food with excitement. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lovino’s expression soften when he thinks he can’t see. “Now, help me with the rest of the dough, asshole,” he said with no real heat.

Gilbert came to his side, to where all the dough was. The two of them cut out the rest of the dough into circles with the cookie cutter in hand. When all the dough had become circular, Lovino rolled them into their iconic cannoli form that were usually in. Meanwhile, Gilbert glanced around the kitchen, searching and scanning for the supplies. Abruptly, he felt a tap to his shoulder. He swiveled his body around to meet Italian man pointing downwards. He nodded, and bent down to the level they were located in, and opened the cabinet. Inside were a stunning variety of antique pottery, from places like France and England, all the way to Egypt and China. He ignored all of those, and instead grabbed the more recent one, made during the Napoleon era. It was a gift from him, created by commissioned German artisans. Although there was a lack of design and elegance that the others had, it retained its value through its sturdiness and uniqueness. Just plain, but beautiful, Prussian blue. He blinked out of his reminiscence of the past, took a pot from the lower cabinet, and placed it on the stove. He poured oil into the pot, watching drip to the bottom. Slowly, he heated the oil so it can be used to fry the cannoli.

Then, he turned to his boyfriend. “Are you done?”

“Almost,” he replied, his attentioned on on brushing the last of the seams with lightly beaten egg whites to seal them together. With one final stroke of the brush, he had finished. He stood back, and admired his work before he turned to face Gilbert. “Has it reached 198 degrees Celsius yet?” He gave him a nod. “Well,” the Italian started. “Let's start frying.”

Gilbert watched as Lovino swiftly placed three cannolis into the pot, and waited impatiently for the shells to fry. He kept on glancing from the pot to the clock, and back to the pot again, all the while he tapped impatiently against the counter. He was right to be impatient though, they only had a half hour left before the Carnival started. He edged over to him, and brought his hand over his shoulder, pulling the cook closer. The brunette momentarily looked up, and rolled his eyes at his affection, though he did not protest. He went back to the task, flipping over the golden-brown shells of the cannoli. They bubbled up and blistered against the heat of the oil, while their smell spread across the entirety of the kitchen. Gilbert took a deep breath, and inhaled the fresh scent. It was breathtaking. 

He could not wait to try the food.

While the German was spooning the filling into a pastry bag, Lovino finished frying the rest of the shells. The man continuously repeated the same pattern, with dumping the shells in, and frying and flipping the cannoli over. Once it received the golden-brown husk like it was supposed to, Lovino would bring the cannoli up, and place it onto a platter Gilbert had brought out. Again and again, the Italian would do this, until at last, all but one remained. He peered down at it intensely, determined to get this one perfectly. Quickly, he plopped it into the blue pot, and saw it sink deep into the oil. He clicked his tongue, as the shell’s doughiness hardened against the heat, bubbling and bursting all the while. He flipped it again, to the other side, and did the same process all over again. After a total of five minutes had passed, he dumped it onto a separate plate. 

“For me?” Gilbert asked. A smirk appeared on his sweaty face while he wiped his forehead with a moist towel.

“Who else, dumbass?” Lovino tapped his nose. “Don’t act all mighty Prussia on me when your stomach was growling just twenty minutes ago,” he said with a snort.

“Oh, shut up! It was only one time!”

“Alright, the great and hungry Prussia,” He teased. Another smile tugged on the edge of his lips, before he forced it back down. His body straightened up while he grabbed a bag of chocolate chips and powdered sugar from a nearby cabinet and brought it to the table. “Back to cooking. Did you fill up the pastry bags?” Instead of responding, Gilbert held up a bag in each palm of his hand. He handed one over to Lovino to use.

Together, they filled each shell with the creamy filling, and added chocolate chips. Although Gilbert’s work was neat and he never overfilled with filling or chips, it was much slower than the pace of his Italian companion. Quick and efficient, that was his style. Even if some cannoli had more filling than others, or were overstuffed with chocolate chips at times, they still looked absolutely scrumptious to him. And the powdered sugar only helped with the delicious appearance. He licked his cracked lips hungrily, as he reached his hand over to grab one— And was promptly stopped by the one and only Vargas. “Nope. No stealing. You’re going to lose your cannoli rights then.”

Gilbert pouted. “Cmon! How do you know if we’ll have enough for the last one?”

“Gilbert.” He always said his name with emphasis on the ‘Gil’ part, drawing it out. “We always have leftovers. We’ve been doing this for years. You can wait for this, asshole.”

And he did. The two of them continued the rest of the shells out with the filling, stuffing with chocolate chips, and dusting the powdered sugar. Until there was only left. The lone cannoli sat in its special plate all by itself, prized for the German for waiting so long. Lovino took Gilbert by the hand, and pulled him over to his treat. He directed his hand over his, leading him as they squeezed the pastry bag together to fill the very last shell. Together, they added the last of the chocolate chips into the cream texture, using all of them in the bag. Each of them sprinkled the sugary goodness all over the plate, covering it in dust with a few coughs from Gilbert. And hand in hand, they took a step back, and admired their work together with a sigh of relief. They had finished.

Gilbert looked over to his boyfriend, admiring his messy, disheveled appearance. Lovino caught his eye, and looked away with flushed, rosy, cheeks, although he didn’t hide them like he usually did. The man didn’t even try to hide his smile either. It was full on display, stretched out to his cheekbones. Pride shined thoroughly in his sage eyes, making them look much more brilliant and bold than before. With his tight squeeze of his hand, it was obvious that Lovino Vargas was goddamn proud of his work. As he should be, of course.

Lovino stepped forward to the plate, with Gilbert one step behind him. He carefully lifted the treat in one hand, and tugged Gilbert’s clothing in the other. “Open your mouth,” He whispered softly into his ear, while he softly traced his chin. The German’s ears tinged red, and he had no choice but to comply. Slowly, he opened his mouth wide, while the Italian brought the food closer and closer to his teeth. He closed it as soon as a portionable size was brought into his mouth. Through chewing it, he could taste the mixtures of ingredients, all of the sweetness and sugar put into it, with a dash of love from Lovino.

“We could stay here,” He whispered silkily into his ear. The heat from his breath made his ear much warmer than usual, while the temperature of the room seemed to increase by five whole degrees. Gilbert stayed stockstill, waiting for the next move. “We could—“

Loud beeping noises interrupted him from going any further. 

“Miichia!” He swore loudly, hissing at the sound. He pulled away from Gilbert, and stomped over to the nearby living room. On the table laid a red mobile phone, ringing loudly against the table. He grabbed the device, and brought it to his ear. From his shifting expression, it was obvious his already frustrated mood became worse once he heard who the caller was. A groan came out of him while he rolled his eyes. Whatever they said, it caused him to be pissed. His fist became clenched, while he gritted his teeth in agitation. Lovino ran his hand through his hair, brushing some of his curls out of the way while he released a drawn out sigh.

“What do you mean, where am I? I already told you, I’m with Gilbert!” He snapped into the phone. He facepalmed himself, while he muttered, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He stomped back to the kitchen, next to Gilbert. “Look, we’ll just meet you and Ludwig later in the festival, alright? Just give us some time, we haven’t even gotten ready.” He turned towards the man, and motioned him to the bags, signaling him to pack the treats. “Yeah, yeah. See you, Feli.” He brought the phone in front of his face, and tapped a button to end the call. Then he turned to Gilbert, about ready to speak.

“I want to show you the surprise,” Gilbert blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lovino raised an eyebrow, while he stared at him in bewilderment. “What? Why? We should get ready for the Carnival.” He gestured towards the bathrooms.

“It’s related to the Carnival.”

He hesitated for a moment, mouth wide. He sighed, and nodded. “Alright, show me. Just hurry up.”

He dragged Lovino by his arm, leading him to the front door of the house. Nearby the entrance laid his Prussian blue bags he had been carrying earlier. Smiling to himself, he crouched down to the floor with the Italian next to him, and opened the bags up. Inside the bags were two extravagant outfits, one for each. He took both of them out, lifting them to show his boyfriend the beauty and the material of the outfits. One had a colorful-diamond-print design, with a black leather mask and completed with accessories such as the handbag and the iconic spatula. It was about Lovino’s height. The other one had trousers, waistcoats and tailcoats, with bucked shoes and a high hat. It reminded Gilbert familiarly of the outfits of the past, that would be considered stuffy by today's standards. He admired the sequence work of the designs before he handed the first one to him. 

“Oh shit, is that Arlecchino?” He asked with wide eyes. The albino nodded. He pointed towards the other one. “Rugantino?”

“Yup. One and only. It’s hand-crafted.”

Lovino whistled, muttering a, “Damn I’m impressed.” He carefully traced the silk of design, eyes softening. He looked almost proud. “This is well-designed, who made these?”

“Me.”

He scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “Gilbert, I’ve known you for centuries. You do not have the time or patience to do this shit. Especially by hand.” 

“Fine, fine, it was Roderich. I asked him to do it.”

Lovino nearly dropped the outfit out of his hands. He twisted his body to face Gilbert, mouth agape. “Austria?! He doesn’t even celebrate Carnival! How did you manage to get him to make this shit for you?”

Gilbert shrugged, with a wide grin stretched across his face. “He owes me shit for all the times I’ve cleaned his house.”

He snorted. “Oh right, I forgot. You’re a fucking neat freak.” Gilbert opened his mouth, about to protest when he got pulled up to his feet by him. Lovino brought his finger to his lips, shushing the man completely. His eyes stared directly at the man, with his enticing smirk. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him so bad. “Cmon now, we gotta change. We’re already getting late.” He gave him a cheek kiss, as he muttered, “Tell Roderich I appreciate the gift.”

The two of them quickly changed into their outfits, straightening their ruffles or curls of the clothing. They met each other at the front door. Lovino offered his hand out, tapping his foot impatiently all the while. Gilbert merely obliged, squeezing his warm hand tightly. Hand and hand, they left for the time they’d have in the Carnival.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Miichia = Fuck
> 
> Sources:  
> Sicilian Cannoli Recipe: https://www.thespruceeats.com/how-to-make-sicilian-cannolis-4017629  
> Carnival Outfits: https://blog.musement.com/us/traditional-italian-carnival-costumes/


End file.
